Unsurprisingly, Cooley is the first one to approach me. “Never met her, huh?”

I heave out a sigh. “I’m sorry I lied, man. It was—is—complicated. Not something I exactly like talking about.”

“Dude.” Cooley laughs. “Don’t apologize. You’re a fucking legend, Dawson. And you weren’t exactly struggling in that department before. Most of the guys I know have crushes on Princess Vivienne, and she’s in love with you.”

“No, she’s not,” I dispute automatically, although I can’t help but think of her words in the hospital. She said love, not loved. Present tense.

Cooley looks doubtful.

I finish changing and start shoving my gear back into my locker. “She’s not. It was a long time ago.”

“Are you sure your head’s okay? It was less than a week ago.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“You haven’t seen the video?”

“What video?”

“There were reporters filming when you got taken to the hospital and arrived there.”

I groan. “It’s bad?”

“Well…you were passed out for all of it. So, I guess it’s only bad if you’re bothered by the fact a hot girl was literally chasing after your unconscious body. I would be thrilled if any girl did that, and you managed to get Princess Vivienne.” He shakes his head. “Talk about life being unfair.”

I snort. “Whatever you say.”

By the time I return home from practice, my mom has scoured every surface of the entire mansion I’m living in. Each visible plane gleams.

“Hey, honey,” she greets when I walk inside the kitchen.

“Hi, Mom,” I reply, opening the fridge and gulping down half of a chilled bottle of water. “You didn’t have to do this, you know?” I gesture to the immaculate house.

“I know. I wanted to. Also, I didn’t have much else to do,” she admits. “You’re a lot easier to take care of than the farm, your siblings, and your father.”

Guilt eats at me. “Mom, you don’t need to stay with me. I feel totally fine.”

She gives me a dubious look I pretend not to see. “Okay, I’ll only stay for one more day…if you promise you’ll come home next weekend. I know you have it off. I checked with Ellie when she dropped some stuff off earlier.”

“Okay, I will.” I promise. “I’m going to shower.”

“Okay, honey.” My mom glances at my damp hair from the shower I just took at the stadium, but doesn’t say anything else as I head upstairs.

I walk into my bedroom and grab my laptop from the bedside table. Taking a seat in the armchair nestled in the corner of the room, I open the computer, studying the blinking cursor in the search bar for a long moment before I finally type princess vivienne.

As soon as I press enter, millions of results immediately appear. To my surprise, the articles listed first aren’t about her engagement; they’re about us. I click on the third one, which has a headline that reads: ‘Good Friends?’ Footage of Princess Vivienne and Jace Dawson Suggests Otherwise! The article loads quickly, displaying a video showcasing a still frame of an ambulance parked outside one of the stadium’s side entrances under the headline. I hover the mouse over the play button and then finally press it.